


Divine Intervention.

by onlyeli



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Internalised Homophobia, M/M, Pining, We Are All Hate Rich's Dad, bad times, pre squip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:05:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyeli/pseuds/onlyeli
Summary: He would rather die than join the leagues of girls that swoon when Jake smiles at them in the hallway.Not that Jake smiles at him in the hallway.Not that anyone smiles at him much, really.





	Divine Intervention.

**Author's Note:**

> i also posted this on my tumblr richgoranskis lmao if anyone wants to follow me on there!

Apparently, to meet Rich’s standards, you only have to be two things: one, taller than he is, and two, totally fucking unattainable.

Being who he is, that’s just about everyone in New Jersey, but Jake Dillinger especially.

God, it’s so pathetic. Not only is Jake the poster child for high school perfection, what with his football position and name in the trophy case, he’s also the template for the all American heterosexual teen boy, fanclub of heartsick girls and all. Now, Rich may be kind of skinny and feminine around the eyes, and his dad might tell him he’s a good for nothing faggot, but he would rather die than join the leagues of girls that swoon when Jake smiles at them in the hallway, and that’s a fact.

Not that Jake smiles at him in the hallway.

Not that anyone smiles at him much, really.

Anyway, Rich isn’t into boys. He’s into girls. He’s into girls, with their soft skin and shiny hair, jade green eyes that stare right through him, voices that sound like they’re always getting further away. He’s never had a girlfriend, but he knows that’s what he likes. Never mind terrifying confusion in the locker room, a fear so thick he can barely breathe. Never mind dazed fantasies in the cafeteria, watching the football team jostle and laugh. Never mind that.

Even if he was into guys, he can’t prove his dad right. That’s a satisfaction he won’t give over. No fucking thanks, check please, I’ll pass.

Regardless, they wouldn’t even look at him twice. He’s got a face that’s easy to miss in a crowd, unless that onlooker is searching for an easy victim. With second hand clothes from head to toe and a lisp as noticeable as neon, it’s not difficult to push him around. As sad and edgy as it seems, he’s used to being tripped in the hallways, shoved unceremoniously into lockers. In fact, he barely bats an eye anymore, only preoccupied with saving his glasses and backpack, both on their last legs, but too expensive to replace.

Back to the point: so, maybe, Rich thinks Jake is cute. Maybe he watches him kiss Chloe Valentine goodbye with a wistful glint in his eyes, and maybe he strains to hear that boisterous laugh from the back of algebra one. Even if all this was true, it’d never happen. It’d take a miracle. It’d take divine intervention. It’d take a change so spectacular, Jake would have no choice but to look him in the face when he walked the hallway. Despite this, there’s still some hope: for Rich, for life, for quantum nanotechnology cpu.

Whatever. He’s fine with it. Even if this whole pill deal turns out to be a twisted scheme, it’s a story to tell the friends he doubts he’ll make. Maybe there’s a chance for him in college, where the target males aren’t so inaccessible, and the majesty of Jake fucking Dillinger is just a distant memory.


End file.
